XV

So I sing into a kielbasa stick.
I sing glory glory hallelujah.
I’d rather take an elevator
with Elvis, pop a few pills
and shake like a bobblehead
(in hell) What if I find God?
What if I freak out? like – a
like – a copy machine, heaven
lights up and it’s yellow every-
where it’s yellow pills I
can’t stop screaming here we
go Virgil here we go. So
what can’t poetry do now?
I say this everything echoes.

                                                  26 August 2003